IN AN AGE OF SHADOW...
Nasty, brutish and short – this is the only way to describe life in Erenland. Some of the elders say that things were not always so, but human folk who live today were not yet born when, nearly a century ago, the forces of the dark god Izrador—the Shadow from the North—won the war for the continent of Eredane, and plunged it into the darkness of what has come to be known as the Last Age. Some of the longer lived fey may know the truth of it, but only fools would seek out the dwarven folk of the Kaladruns or the elves of the great wood, Erethor. Collaboration with the mountain and woodland fey is but one of many acts that are punishable by death under the laws of the Shadow.
Since the Last Age began, the armies of the Shadow have waged a relentless genocide against the surviving mountain and woodland fey, sending hundreds of thousands of orc and goblinkin legions to besiege their remote strongholds. One can only guess at how the fey have held out for so long, in isolation – but all know that it is only a matter of time until they also fall, for the Shadow is too strong.
The plains and river fey – nomadic Halflings and gnomes – are not considered a threat by the agents of the Shadow. Halflings are seldom seen – their race reportedly is very close to extinction. Whenever they are caught by agents of the Shadow, if they escape slaughter, then they are enslaved and sent in droves to distant mines and worse fates, never to be seen again. The river gnomes are the only fey that are tolerated by the Shadow and given relative autonomy. The Shadow relies on gnome barges to ferry military troops and supplies along the continent’s waterways. They play a key role in the transportation and distribution of goods across Eredane. While the river fey tend to be welcomed cautiously in human towns because they usually bring essential goods for trade that otherwise would be difficult if not impossible to obtain, many inwardly despise the little turncoats for collaborating with the occupying forces.
Of course, the gnomes are not the only ones that can be accused of collaborating with the Shadow. Thousands of human mercenaries serve the Shadow, and the dark god Izrador’s priests—known as legates—are human. The Shadow also has its supporters among common folk—many believe that it is wiser and that their lives and those of their loved ones will be far less painful if they openly proclaim their devotion to the Shadow. The agents of the Shadow have been known to raze entire communities on the suspicion that even one resident might have been acting in collaboration with the Resistance, or committed some other act forbidden by the laws of the occupiers. Who in a given community supports the Resistance, and who might be a secret informant for the Shadow, is difficult to know. Hence, trust is a rare commodity.
Central Erenland, your home, is the breadbasket of Eredane. While farming remains the primary activity in the area, the agents of the Shadow demand an ever increasing portion of each harvest as tithes to support the “protection” of communities from slavers, bandits, beasts, and the Fell, and to support their war efforts against the fey. Thus, poverty and hunger are the norm in Erenland, especially in villages where the Shadow has an established presence. As early as childhood, despair sets into the hearts and minds of all but the stoutest or deluded of souls. Why go on living under such conditions? Because life is precious… and because that which awaits one after death, may be even worse than that which one endures in life.
The largest city in the region, Erenhead, hundreds of miles to the west on the southern shore of the Sea of Pelluria, has been completely overrun by orcs. It is whispered that the human population there has been enslaved, and are used to offload supplies for the war in the Kaladruns sent via ship from northern Erenland, or by barge along the Eren River, from the south. The plains around Erenhead are covered in slave-worked farms and pastures that provide for the growing garrison and the massive numbers of orcs who pass through the city. Most Erenlander settlements are dominated by puppet governors, orc warchiefs and legate overlords. Fortunately, most Erenlander settlements also are quite small and lack the strategic importance to merit direct overseers or garrisons. As a result, they are often left to fend for themselves, and most now follow the tradition of Dornish sheriffs.
The further south and east one is from Erenhead, the looser the grasp of the Shadow becomes… but the poorer the soil is, the fewer the opportunities for trade, and the greater the dangers posed by marauders and untamed beasts. Wild game is in limited supply. Some isolated communities of freemen (and possibly even halflings) eke out an existence in the wilds that are off the main travel and military supply lines, too small or remote to capture the attention of the Shadow’s forces.
Of course, you know very little of what truly goes on beyond the confines of your home community or territory, for travel beyond one’s community without the authorization of the local authorities is forbidden, orcs patrol the main roads, and other dangers in the wildlands make travel a very dangerous proposition that few are willing to attempt, especially since weapons and armour are hard to come by (the possession of weapons and armour contravenes the laws of the Shadow). Folk often are reluctant to trade with wandering freemen—to deal with those who live by their own rules could spell doom for those suspected of dealing with them. Still, there always are a few who are willing to take that chance. Reading and writing likewise are prohibited, so sending written messages tends to be futile, not to mention extremely risky. Magic in all its forms is forbidden, on pain of death; the legates have an uncanny ability to sniff out those who wield occult powers, or who possess arcane items. Ignorance prevails, and thus the knowledge most people have of Eredane’s geography and history consequently is very limited.
Yet for all the fear, despair, ignorance, poverty and oppression that exist across Eredane under the Shadow’s reign, Fate sometimes selects the most unlikely of people to manifest exceptional—some might even say heroic—gifts…
THE ADVENTURE BEGINS...
It is a chilly and overcast spring afternoon in the 99th year of the Last Age. For various reasons, fate has brought you all to the village of Koln on this day. The village lies at the edge of the rocky and sparsely vegetated foothills that border the towering Kaladrun Mountains to the east—and near a trace road that leads into still-disputed realms of mountain fey…
The journey to Koln has been a long and hazardous one… Several days walk across the barren plains of central Erenland, at the mercy of wild beasts, Fell and other marauders… and for some, even longer journeys from the heartland along winding rivers…
In many ways, Koln is a village typical of central Erenland. Recently tilled corn and potato fields surround the community for hundreds of yards in every direction, and beyond them lie open range boro pastures, where radiant but short-lived crimson, yellow and purple wild flowers are presently in bloom.
As a result of its location on the periphery of Shadow-occupied lands, at the junction of the foothills and the barren plains, the four-score or so homes in the village have had to shelter themselves beyond a shallow moat and two-story stone wall. The mostly single story homes and buildings within the settlement are said to be hybrids of the styles favoured by the ancestors of the Erenlanders that dominate central Erenland—a combination of circular, low brick Sarcosan architecture built on stout Dornish quarried limestone foundations, with low-peaked, thatched roofs. And despite the poverty and oppression of the locals, the homes in Koln seem to be reasonably well maintained. Most of the structures are no more than 20 to 30 feet in diameter, and they fan out along meandering, muddy lanes from a crude and equally muddy central square and water well, which are overlooked by one rectangular home on a low knoll that is perhaps twice the size of the other dwellings and which features a shingled roof, while still being far from opulent. A few other squat rectangular buildings line the square. Shops are few and far between—but you may have passed the workshops of a tanner and rope maker along the way to the town square. The scent of boro dung fires wafts from the odd craftsman’s hut and through the air. The drifting smoke, overcast sky, stone buildings and muddy paths cast a gloomy pall over the village.
Townsfolk—mainly begrimed Erenlanders and Dorns, by the looks of things, clad in worn woollen garb—went about their business and chatted to one another as you entered the village; children played noisily, and tradesmen laboured in their shops… but with every step you took deeper into Koln, you could not help but feel suspicious eyes falling on you, then quickly looking away. Upon your arrival (or when you stayed in town after the departure of your travelling companions, as the case may have been), a scrawny young lad nervously directed you to go to Sheriff Azahn’s office, on the village square. Thus far, you had seen no signs of orcs, or legates… yes, you had heard that the Shadow presence here was light.
It was in the constabulary that your ragtag band first set eyes upon one another: a diminutive gnome, a tall and powerfully built Erenlander with a deep scar across his right cheek, and a pair of Dorns, one a towering young man and the other by many years his senior, both of them with shaved scalps and wooden staves in hand…
EPISODE 1: THE WELL OF REBELLION
All you had time to learn during Sherriff Azahn Dowl’s all too brief interrogation in the constabulary were one another’s names, and your reasons for having come to Koln… at least, the reasons you were willing to give for your respective visits…
Garnbrimble of clan Greatbarge -- a gnome who had come to town with a trading caravan, and who had stayed behind as the one convoy left, in order to join another that would pass through Koln in the next few days…
Vallin Onyxarm – a tall and powerfully built Erenlander with a deep scar running across his right cheek, who was “looking for work”…
Loïc Batz and his grandfather Jörg – two shaven-headed Dorns from the plains who had brought a goat with them, hoping to trade it for goods that Wendell Gale’s caravan would soon bring to town…
No sooner had these introductions been made that the thunder of cavalry entering the town square drowned out the conversation and clouded everyone’s face with concern, including Sherriff Azahn’s. A black-clad legate had entered the square on a magnificent destrier with a squad of a dozen heavily armed, armoured and mounted orcs in tow, and pulled up at the foot of the knoll upon which the home of Koln’s lord was perched.
The lord and his man-servant came to meet the legate and his troops. The legate, who eventually identified himself as Drugan Deem before the gathering crowd of onlookers, aggressively questioned the lord, but you were too far away to clearly hear about what. Then, the legate stepped aside and the largest of the orcs proceeded to beat the lord viciously for several minutes. The villagers gasped and the lame-legged Sherriff spat in disgust (unseen by the orcs), but none interfered.
At last, the beating stopped, and the legate addressed the crowd. He stated that the mayor had served the town well, and that the residents of Koln therefore would be spared any suffering. He reminded them of their place in the world, and commanded them to gather a tribute for Izrador, which he would gather in two days time; the villagers were to consider themselves fortunate, for the Shadow’s forces could take far more than they had up to that point. Having issued his decree, the legate rode off with half his orcs, leaving the other half to start “encouraging” the villagers to gather their tribute.
As orcs and onlookers alike vacated the village square, the mayor was left lying face down in the mud, moaning in pain, with one orc standing over him. After several minutes’ hesitation, Garnbrimble bravely stepped into the empty square to help the fallen lord. The orc sentinel glared at the gnome and tried to drive him off, but somehow, Garn managed to pacify the soldier and was permitted to carry the wounded mayor into his home; at that point, Loïc, Vallin, and Jörg came to assist the gnome.
EPISODE 1: THE WELL OF REBELLION (cont.)
Mayor Derryk Grandmill was thankful for the help provided by Garn and the other strangers. He was badly shaken and practically delirious as he began to reflect aloud on what had transpired between him and the legate. Apparently, the legate had been informed that something in the area radiated magic, and he had come to seek out the source of the aura. Lord Grandmill stated that he had no idea what the legate was talking about, but out of fear for his own life and the wellbeing of Koln, he did blurt out that there was a network of caves nearby—the Tearfall Caverns—a few miles to the east, inside fey territory… perhaps the magic was coming from there?
Although he said nothing of it to the legate, Lord Grandmill had heard rumours suggesting that smugglers had made use of the caverns in the past. If the legate found evidence of Resistance activity in the caverns, Koln surely would suffer for it. Given your willingness to help him even as an orc stood by, the mayor sensed exceptional bravery in you, and begged that you aid the town by racing the legate to the caverns and by removing any contraband that might be found therein. No other townsfolk could safely perform the deed. He also stressed that you should not engage the legate and his orcs, for doing so would only spell trouble for the village. The Sherriff and a local trapper by the name of Tanner Hurly might have other information that would be useful to you, as they had knowledge of the lands between the village and the caves. The village’s dire need, and your own hatred of the Shadow, led you to accept Mayor Grandmill’s call for aid. Before leaving the Mayor’s residence, Garn managed to convince the lord to safeguard some of his belongings, and to provide the gnome with accommodation upon his return.
Sherriff Azahn was reluctant to admit that he had ever been to the caves, but eventually confessed that contraband was indeed hidden therein; he also explained where to find the concealed chamber in which the contraband could be found, and the location of the poison dart trap protecting the chamber. He accompanied the band of unlikely companions to the shop of Tanner Hurly. Like the Sherriff, this man was not eager to share his knowledge with Koln’s mysterious would-be saviours. He eventually did provide you with instructions that would help you locate a shortcut to a concealed trail he called “the high road,” but not before trying (unsuccessfully) to convince you to barter goods for his knowledge. The high road, he said, might enable you to beat the legate to the caverns. The legate would be required to dismount after riding the first part of the low road, which is longer and more circuitous than the shorter yet perhaps even more challenging high road.
Jörg, being considerably older than the others and with a goat in tow, opted to remain on the outskirts of the village and await Wendell’s arrival, out of sight of the orcs who had remained in Koln, while the gnome and the two outlander youths undertook the quest to save the village. The Shadow’s mounted forces already had a significant head start on the party…
EPISODE 1: THE WELL OF REBELLION (cont.)
Under a stormy sky, Garn, Loïc, and Vallin raced on foot across newly planted corn and potato fields and boro pastures, and into sparsely wooded meadows, following the obvious hoof prints of the legate’s retinue. As a steep rocky escarpment emerged to the right of their route, the adventurers spotted the feint beginnings of the high road where Tanner Hurly suggested it would be. The horse tracks heading east confirmed that the Shadow’s forces had kept to the low road.
The fifty foot climb to the top of the escarpment was tricky, and resulted in a few near-falls. At last, the three reached its summit, and resumed the race. In order to maximize your pace, Vallin carried Garn on his shoulders. As you continued to race along the gradually ascending high road, you caught a glimpse of a pair of orcs and several unmounted horses in a small clearing near the foot of the escarpment. Yet a few miles further, you found to your dismay that a 70’ deep and 15’ wide chasm blocked your way. Wooden stakes wedged into the rock on both sides of the chasm suggested that a rope bridge might once have spanned its width, but none was there now… you mulled over in your minds how Mr. Hurly could have omitted to mention this obstacle. The razor sharp and uneven rock surface in this area made a running jump risky. Instead, you pursued another daring option: the muscular humans swung the feather-light gnome across the chasm, with a rope tied at his waste. Garn then secured the rope at his end that enabled the humans to cross the chasm in turn.
Over the next few miles, the rocky plateau gradually followed a downward slope and entered a wooded thicket. As you made your way down towards the woods, two figures emerged from the thicket. One raised a weary hand, and, as if finally able to give up and rest, the other staggered and dropped to its hands and knees, groaning in pain. You approached cautiously, your calls being responded to in an unfamiliar language. The one figure turned to aid its fallen companion… and as you came closer, you realized that the two must actually be mountain fey! None of you had ever met a mountain fey before. What could they be doing here? As Garn stepped forward with hand outstretched to greet them, wonder turned to fear as the pallid-skinned dwarves rose, and, with blood-curdling shrieks, hurled their urutuk hatchets at you. Their aim was true, and they nearly felled Garn and Vallin with one blow. As they closed for combat with claws outstretched, the awful truth finally dawned on you… these fey were undead!
The Fell dwarves fought savagely, driven mad by the unsatiable hunger evident in their glassy eyes. At last, you destroyed your foes, but the damage was done. Garn and Vallin had nearly lost their lives in the brief encounter. The prospects of survival if you faced a half-dozen heavily armed and armoured orcs and their legate commander were grim indeed. You looted the bodies of your foes and, despite being significantly weakened, you resolutely pushed on with your mission.
As dusk approached, you reached the spot where the high and low roads intersected once again, in the valley bottom. Your spirits sank deeper when you found tracks that suggested that your foes had beaten you here, and were still ahead of you. A half hour or so later, you came to the edge of an incredibly broad, thick bog that emerged from out of nowhere… and which gave you a distinct feeling of unease. A rope-and-plank bridge stretched across its full 500 feet. Once you reached its far end, Garn sabotaged the ropes that supported one side of the bridge.
Not long afterwards, you reached your destination. Four orcs stood by the cave entrance, pacing furiously and grumbling in their guttural language, apparently unhappy about something. You were too late…
On a “discrete” scouting trip around the area, Garn caught the attention of the orcs, who immediately gave chase. The little gnome ran for his life. Hearing the commotion, Vallin and Loïc took positions among the trees to each side of the trail. As Garn ran by with his pursuers a few yards behind, the Erenlander and the Dorn emerged from cover and silently dispatched two of the orcs. The other two, not noticing what had befallen their companions, continued to pursue Garn over a half-mile distance, back to the bridge over the strange mire. Nearing exhaustion, Garn scrambled across the first span of the bridge. When the two orcs followed, the sabotaged span abruptly dumped them into the mire. Vallin and Loïc appeared as the orcs struggled to free themselves from the waist-deep muck. The two humans fought their foes from the edge of the mire, while Garn peppered them with sling stones from a distance. At last, the gnome and freemen took the lives of their enemies—but the final swing of the orc sergeant’s vardatch knocked Vallin into unconsciousness. Garn and Loïc desperately tried to save their companion’s life. Their skills and collaboration enabled him to regain consciousness—just barely.
As the trio trudged backed toward the cave, they heard Drugan Deem coming down the trail, looking for his legionnaires. Fortune smiled upon you, and like the orcs, the legate paid for his sins with a violent death. After looting their bodies, and in accordance with local folklore, you beheaded the legate and his troopers, to prevent them from rising as Fell… and then, you dragged their corpses into the mire.
A careful search of the Tearfall Caverns revealed the concealed contraband chamber. The contents of the chests included a small cache of daggers, shortswords, light maces, spears, light crossbows and bolts, as well as some bundles of clothes, including three sets of good quality boots and cloaks. The chamber also contained a few barrels of preserved food.
A more thorough search of the cave complex revealed a narrow passage that only Garn could comfortably navigate. This passage opened onto a small chamber containing a crystal clear pool, which Garn soon discovered was home to a water spirit. After ascertaining that the gnome was not a threat, the spirit allowed Garn to collect some water from the pool, which had minor healing properties. It explained haltingly in the Traders’ Tongue that it believed that one of the Shadow’s demonic servants (an astirax) had entered its cave recently. The spirit killed the wolf in whose guise it believed the demon walked, but it feared that agents of the Shadow would return, and therefore asked that you hide the access to its chamber.
After doing the spirit’s bidding, you settled in the contraband chamber, hoping for a restful night’s sleep in the dark and extremely humid cavern… contemplating what to do now that you have the blood of a legate and four orc soldiers on your hands…
EPISODE 2: MYSTERIOUS EMISSARIES
While returning from their impromptu mission to the Tearfall Caverns east of the village of Koln that led to the brutal slaying of a legate and four orc soldiers, Garn, Loic and Vallin were caught off guard by the blades of an unlikely second party lurking in the trees off the trail: Wendell Gale, a self-important gnomish trader; Klot, an uncanny-looking Erenlander with what you would consider to be a perfect blend of Sarcosan and Dornish traits, who claimed he was a soldier that had deserted from the Shadow’s ranks, and who still bore an army-issued breastplate; and three hooded, woodland fey -- the mysterious Lady Rhiann and her quiet companions, the gaunt and serene-faced Eirinn, and the mercurial, white-haired Bayal.
The meeting was a fateful one: both Loic and Garn had come to Koln with the intention of meeting with Wendell, and Vallin likewise was looking for work of an unspecified nature… by joining with the trader’s mysterious party, the three would also be putting some distance between themselves, Koln, and the Shadow troops that would soon scour the hills in search of the missing legate and his orc soldiers, and of those who may have played a role in their disappearance. The entire village likely would pay the price for the disappearance of the legate and his retinue… but what was done was done, said Wendell, and there was nothing you could do now to save Koln. And besides, a higher purpose awaited you, and he had need of your extra muscle… He assured Loic that he had the time to conclude his business with his grandfather, and that Jorg would be long gone from Koln by the time the Shadow’s reinforcements arrive.
After the lady Rhiann performed some sort of ritual at the Tearfall Caverns with the water spirit that Garn had encountered therein, she identified the cloaks that both Vallin and Loic had acquired from the contraband chamber, as well as the boots that the latter had scavenged, as having been crafted by her people. The cloaks would help conceal those who wore them when their hoods were drawn, and the boots would confer increased agility upon their wearer.
The party set over the pass in miserable, rainy conditions. Wendell explained that he was guiding the elven emissaries to the old gnomish trading post at Kurgun Falls, in the Kaladrun Mountains, and that from there they would be escorted to the dwarven settlement of Durgis Rock for a meeting with the clan’s Dorith. Wendell was quite excited about the mission – he claimed that it had been more than two centuries since gnomes had been to Kurgun Falls; it likely would have been longer since elves had had any dealings with dwarves. “Something important” was bound to happen…
While the trading post at Kurgun Falls was on the banks of the Carina River, going upriver by barge during the current period of high runoff was impossible, and it would be foolish to follow the stretch of river that winds through the open plains and into the mountains. The route the party was following would reduce the likelihood of being observed by Shadow forces. A few days walk would lead the party to a natural bridge over the Carina River, which would connect with the old gnomish caravan route that some traders used to follow when the river was too high to penetrate deeper into the mountains. Given the lack of river traffic and the route’s remoteness from current Shadow strongholds and primary targets, Wendell expected the journey to be safe… relatively speaking…
Finding a dry path across the flooded lowlands beyond the pass was nearly impossible. The group moved as cautiously as possible, but sometimes had to backtrack as they encountered natural obstacles. As a long day full of exertion wearied the party, a submerged, heavily carapaced, scorpion-like bog creature lashed out from a pond with two long barbed tendrils that wrapped around Bayal, and threatened to pull him under. The white-haired elf struggled to free himself, as the rest of the party fought the beast off, eventually slaying it.
That evening, you made camp on a peninsula of dry land, and stole your first glimpses of the lady Rhiann’s unsettling facial features – her sinister, all black eyes made more than one of you shiver with discomfort. The lady also manifested sorcerous powers as she healed Garn, Vallin and Bayal of their wounds. Rather than eating rations with you, the fey kept to themselves, drinking only an odd-smelling brew in small silver cups that they heated without fire on flat black stones.
The night and following day passed mostly without incident. The weather improved, and the sun even poked through the overcast skies on occasion. Klot ranged higher on a nearby ridge, keeping an eye out for signs of pursuit, but finding none. Late in the afternoon, however, you stumbled across some worrisome signs: the criss-crossing tracks of some unfamiliar predator with large paws resembling those of some oversized feline or perhaps even hound; and the remains of some apparently long dead, club wielding giant. The animal tracks stalked past the skeleton towards the east, in the same direction you were headed. Not far beyond the remains, a knoll arose from the lowlands, atop which you spied the ruins of some ancient structure.
You cautiously investigated the site, noting that there were no bones or other signs that the ruins might be the lair of the predator whose tracks you had observed… but the tracks did explore the area before moving on further east. While the upper stories of the structure were ruined, the ground floor was relatively well-sheltered from the elements. Some wall sections had crumbled, but at least the ceiling overhead was intact. The structure was well-positioned defensively – it stood 50 feet or so above the surrounding lands, and one side of the hillock consisted of a sheer, thirty foot rock face. A cursory search revealed a badly rusted greatsword, perhaps of Dornish origin, and the weeks old ashes of a burnt out fire, but little else. In the distance, through an opening in the ridge to the south, you could see a river… the Carina River, you assumed.
As dusk neared, you decided that this would be as safe a spot as any in which to set camp for the night, and so began to make preparations accordingly…